


it's all about light because all its been before is shadows

by victoriousscarf



Category: DCU
Genre: Dick Grayson is a Talon, Family Feels, Gen, Roughly based around Night of the Owls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: “Aren’t you supposed to be attacking me too?” the boy in front of him asked, even though there was already blood on his cheeks and he was favoring one side.Talon tilted his head because he already knew the answer to that question was a yes. “You seem to be barely standing as it is.”





	it's all about light because all its been before is shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratherrumpus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherrumpus/gifts).



> Done for the Batfam Reverse Bang. Art by unwiselybats/ratherrumpus. 
> 
> I hope this is even remotely what you wanted. I felt like tearing my hair out the whole time.
> 
> obstinatelybored was as usual a fantastic cheerleader. Written excessively to Les Frictions' new album.

“Aren’t you supposed to be attacking me too?” the boy in front of him asked, even though there was already blood on his cheeks and he was favoring one side.

Talon tilted his head because he already knew the answer to that question was a yes. “You seem to be barely standing as it is.”

The boy lifted up his sword in a shaking hand. “I am not going to let you get through to your target.”

“You won’t be able to stop me without dying,” he said, head still to one side.

The boy snorted, shaking his head quickly. “You think for a second that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight? You think that statement of fact will allow you to win? Besides, you’re not the only one here trained by assassins.”

Talon took a step forward and stopped, several feet of Gotham rooftop between them still.

“You’re talking awful big for not doing anything,” the boy said with another snort but he couldn’t seem to keep holding the sword up. He let the point drop while trying to make it look like he was just casually resting the sword.

“You are a child,” Talon said.

“So __what__?”

Talon opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Look, are we going to fight or not?” the boy demanded and despite his boasts Talon moved so quickly the boy had no time to get his defenses back up. A whack to his check knocked him down and a carefully applied attack at his pressure points knocked him out. Talon stood for a long moment over him, remembering his orders, his target, who was just in the room beyond.

Other Talons, taken out of retirement—his __family__ —might have already succeeded. The Batman was probably already dead.

For a long moment he stared at the door in front of him before he bent down and picked the boy up.

-0-

There were still a few hours left in the night, he thought as he dropped the boy down next to the Bat Signal. He could finish his job, pretend the boy had just escaped.

There were years of conditioning and training behind the impulse, but when the boy reached a hand out, still unconscious, as if asking him to stay, he did. Every second he stayed there was another one ticking away toward dawn and the horrible realization he had failed the Court.

But there was no regret, only foreboding.

“Let him go,” a voice said and he hadn’t even fully realized that sometime during the night he had pulled the boy up against him, and had an almost protective arm thrown over him.

“I have not harmed him,” he said and when he looked up he could feel his heart turn over to see Batman standing in the shadows at the edge of the light spilling from the Bat Signal. “This was mostly someone else’s work.” His hand not draped over the boy's chest clenched and unclenched.

“Why do you have him?” the Batman asked, his cape billowing back in the wind.

“Because he was willing to die to protect other's lifes,” Talon said.

“What does that matter to you?” the Batman asked, taking a step forward, closer to the light at Talon’s back.

“I did not want to kill him,” Talon said, and it honestly felt that simple.

The Batman crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

“I do not know yet,” Talon said.

Which was somewhat strangely the last thing he remembered for a while.

-0-

“Isn’t one trained assassin enough for this crew?”

Talon woke up with a snap, and froze, wondering if anyone had realized it yet.

“I don’t even understand why you’re here, Todd,” the voice of the boy said.

“You of course being the __other__  trained assassin I was talking about,” Todd said.

“Both of you,” the Batman said. “Stop it.”

“Why is he here, B?” Todd asked and Talon hadn’t opened his eyes yet. In his mind he was trying to figure out which one of the Batman’s allies Todd might be by his voice alone.

“He saved my son’s life, Red Hood,” the Batman said and Talon could hear a shuffling as someone moved. That answered his question anyway.

“Which would be a great way to infiltrate your secret base,” a new voice said.

“Except they’ve already done that tonight alone,” the Batman said.

“And what about you pipsqueak? How do you feel about the assassin saving your life? And then being brought home by daddy?” Todd asked, a sneer obvious in his voice and Talon wondered who he was trying to bait more, the boy or the Batman.

“Todd, I can still—”

“Stop it,” the Batman said and Talon sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the metal gurney he was on, and bringing everyone talking to an abrupt standstill.

“Um, when did he wake up?” Todd asked, hand going to his waist where several guns were.

“Several minutes ago,” Talon answered and Todd’s brow inched up.

“Oh, that’s great,” Todd muttered, and another one of the Batman’s associates stood close to him, his arms crossed over his chest and frowning at Talon. “Just great. B. What the fuck.”

“I have never needed you to approve of my choices, Red Hood,” the Batman said blandly and Todd pulled a face at him as the Batman turned toward him. “How are you feeling?”

“Does that matter?” Talon asked.

“I asked, didn’t I?” the Batman said and Talon considered him. He looked down instead of answering, finding half of his armor had been stripped off, and almost all of his weapons removed. They had missed several of them however.

“I disobeyed,” he said. “How do you think I am?”

“How long have you been Talon?” the Batman asked, taking a step forward. “Another one fought me only a few days ago.”

“He failed,” Talon said. “So I took his place.”

“So that means a matter of __days__?” the boy asked, gesturing with one hand for emphasis. “Damn it, I should have been able to take you.”

“The League of Shadows and the Court have different standards,” Talon said and the boy scowled at him, a furrow between his brows.

“How exactly does one take the place of a former Talon?” the middle boy asked, and his suit was also red, but he didn’t quite look like he fit in with the others.

“By killing the last one,” Talon said.

There was silence a long moment after that, Todd and the middle boy exchanging looks behind the Batman’s back.

“Not that we ever truly stay dead,” Talon added, and he sat perfectly still, not moving as he watched them shift awkwardly at his words, the three of them besides the Batman. “We often rise again.”

“I noticed,” the Batman said dryly.

Talon inclined his head. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You said you didn’t know what you wanted,” the Batman said and Talon frowned, cocking his head to one side because he couldn’t figure out why that translated to him there, in the Batcave. “Do you remember your name?” the Batman asked.

“Richard Grayson,” he said, because he had never forgotten it. He held the memory tight and small against his chest, his name, the smell of his mother, the smile of his father. The court never tried to take away memories, only free will.

“We met once,” the Batman said and Talon tilted his head the opposite direction in confusion. “Before you disappeared. I wanted to save you.”

“You can only save the willing,” Talon said.

There was almost a smile on the Batman’s face under the cowl and not even the whims of the court were this confusing. “You said you didn’t know what you wanted. You saved the life of my son and protected him when it’s very possible his vulnerability would have gotten him killed. You don’t really think you could go back to the Court, do you?”

“Exile is not the same as being saved,” Talon said, shaking his head.

“Uh, B,” Todd started.

“Give me a chance,” the Batman said. “And yourself.”

Talon kept frowning at him but eventually he nodded.

-0-

They set up a cot for him downstairs, only somewhat more comfortable than the metal gurney and much more comfortable than what he was used to.

But he did not sleep there.

There had been clothes left for him, too large and too white, but he had found him Talon jacket stripped of weapons and undergoing testing, which he had stopped to liberate it.

The Batman had some of the best security Talon had ever seen, but he had been trained, unlike the older Talons, in how to maneuver in the modern world with all its technology and new ways. So he broke out of the cave and wandered upstairs. It was hours past dawn but everyone seemed to be in bed except for one older man in a suit, cleaning the kitchen.

Talon avoided him easily and continued to explore the house.

He found studies, the library, stood at the top of the stairs and glanced at the chandelier in the foyer. He stood even longer staring at the sun as it fell across one hall before he avoided it on his way past, keeping to the shadows.

Finally he found the bedrooms, as the sun started to move toward noon.

For a long time he stood in the Batman’s bedroom, considering his sleeping form. At least he assumed he still slept, though he could have just been lying there and waiting for Talon’s next move.

But he turned and slipped out of the room, wandering down the hall until he found the boy’s room. The boy was sleeping heavy, the exhaustion of the recently injured. Or he may have been faking it as Talon had earlier. He did not stir as Talon curled up on the floor at the foot of his bed and went to sleep there, so Talon figured he really was asleep.

-0-

“This is unexpected,” the boy said and Talon snapped awake. “I’ll have to let father know how terrible his security is.”

“It’s not bad,” Talon said, pushing himself up to sit, still on the ground at the foot of the boy’s bed.

“Not bad,” the boy snorted. “Oh yes I’ll be sure to pass along those exact words, I’m sure he’d appreciate them.” He paused and they looked at each other, both weighing and considering. “What do I call you?”

Talon tilted his head. “I am the Talon.”

“You said last night your name is Richard Grayson,” the boy said. “Besides, the Court isn’t just going to take you back. So you might as well go by your name.” He stopped again, resting his chin on his palm. “So what about it, Grayson?”

One of Talon’s shoulders twitched and he wasn’t quite sure why. “No,” he said, the power of the denial surprising him. “Not that, __not__  Gray Son.”

The boy frowned. “Richard?”

“Dick,” Talon said. “My parents, they used to call me Dick.”

“That’s awfully informal,” the boy muttered.  

“I prefer it,” Talon said and stopped, repeating the name several times in his own head, convincing himself it fit with him, that he should think of himself as it.

“Alright, Dick,” the boy said and winced. “My name is Damian.”

“I know,” Talon said.

The boy—Damian rolled his eyes. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. So, why did you break out of the cave and sleep here?” Talon allowed himself to think of him by his name instead of simply a description and wondered what it would be like to not think of people simply as targets, or objects to use, or orders to obey.

Talon paused, sucked the inside his cheek and then shrugged. “I watched you while you were sleeping. Protected you.”

“I couldn’t have returned the favor when I didn’t even know you were __here__ ,” Damian said.

Talon shrugged as there was a yell outside.

“Damian I swear to fucking—” Todd threw the door open and stopped. “Okay. So he’s here. That’s good. Didn’t like, run away or anything.”

“He apparently slept the night here,” Damian said with a sniff. “And his name is Dick.”

Todd opened his mouth, moved his head, sucked on his lower lip and finally said, “Are you completely kidding me?”

“How dare you accuse me of that?” Damian asked, puffing his chest out. “He said it himself! He wants to be called Dick!”

“I meant him being here all casual like as much as anything!” Todd snapped back before focusing his gaze on Talon, who still sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hands carefully in his lap. “So, Dick huh?”

“And you’re Todd,” Talon said.

“Oh fuck no,” Todd snapped. He worked his jaw a minute before he squatted down, holding a hand out and Talon frowned at it. “My name is Jason.”

Hesitantly, Talon reached out and took his hand. “Jason. The Red Hood, formerly Batlad.”

“Yeah, basically,” Jason said and his hand was firm and warm and Talon found himself jerking his own hand back.

“You wore black mostly,” Talon said. “Why doesn’t he?” and he gestured back to Damian who still sat above both of them on his own bed.

“Something about honoring a memory,” Jason shrugged.

“Who’s?” Talon asked.

“Yours, I think,” Jason said and Talon reared his head back, looking at him distrustfully. “Weren’t those your colors in the circus, way back?”

“Why would that matter?” Talon demanded.

“Because I don’t think B ever likes losing,” Jason said with a shrug. “Speaking of B, you should probably,” and the door opened again, the Batman standing there, only there was something like panic in his eyes and he was just a mortal man with bandages across his chest and no cowl.

Talon had known who he was, but somehow seeing him in person, stripped of his armor and the darkness brought it abruptly home.

“You’re alright,” he said, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“Yes,” Talon said.

“I thought they might have come for you,” he said.

“There would have been more signs of a fight,” Talon said after a beat, realizing as he said it if the Court had come for him in the night he would have fought them tooth and nail to stay. It was a disturbing realization and he sat there, frowning at the Batman.

“He wants to be called Dick, by the way,” Jason said, breaking whatever moment was starting to stretch out between Talon and the Batman.

“What?” Bruce Wayne asked, turning his head and Talon wanted to crawl out the window when his gaze was no longer on him. Instead he stayed, and as Jason and Bruce talked, Damian scooted down to the edge of the bed, his leg dangling next to Talon like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

“I’m not going to say thank you,” he said softly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to have,” Talon said, glancing up sideways at him.

“Tt,” Damian said, looking away.

-0-

“Dick,” Bruce said, and Talon was still trying to get used to the name he himself had insisted upon.

It was evening, the sun having finally gone down and Talon was perched on a balcony, looking at the lights of Gotham over the river.

“This is because you think I’ll be able to help you with the Court, isn’t it?” he asked.

“No,” Bruce said and sometimes Talon thought he should still think of him as the Batman over Bruce, but without the cowl he seemed almost impossibly small. “This has nothing to do with using against the Court.”

“They know who you are,” Talon said, turning his head.

“I know,” Bruce said. “Something about breaking into my house tipped me off.”

“They aren’t going to stop,” Talon said. “You—You should use me against them.”

“Why didn’t you kill Damian?” Bruce asked.

“I didn’t want to,” Talon said. “I—I told you I had become Talon days ago. I told you already how each Talon is replaced. We must kill the last one. I've killed already, even if not your son.” Bruce absorbed that and then seemed to be waiting for him to continue. “But Batlad—the boy—I didn’t want to kill him.”

“Red Hood said he talked with one of the old Talons,” Bruce said after a beat. “That he said the Court had taken his body but never his soul.”

“You think so much of me,” Talon said. “For a trained tool.”

Something flashed behind Bruce’s eyes and he leaned forward, Talon leaning back to get away from him. “You are not a tool,” he said, low and angry. “You are a person. You have a soul and free will and anything else the Court tried to take away from you. That is why you are here. I will help in whatever way you need. You can stay as long as you need. But you are not a tool.”

Talon stared at him. “You know what I said—It means the next Talon they chose to replace me will have to kill me. They will come after me.”

“Then we fight, as we have fought the Court,” Bruce said.

“And if you lose?”

“You may have noticed they woke up every Talon they had and I haven’t lost yet,” Bruce said and Talon was surprised to really look at him and realize how young he was. How perhaps arrogant. “But in the meantime you can consider this your home. It might help if you actually think of yourself by the name you chose,” and Talon twitched. Bruce pushed away and turned to walk back into the manor before he paused. “And maybe get some sunlight.”

“Sunlight?” Talon asked and Bruce twitched his mouth at him, not ever quite a full smile.

-0-

When he slunk into Damian’s room that night, he found a mat on the floor, several blankets haphazardly thrown on it like whether he used them or not wasn’t relevant to Damian.

The boy in question was sitting up on his bed, scrolling through his phone, his bedside lamp the only light in the room.

“What’s this?” Talon asked.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come back here, or find somewhere else to sleep,” Damian said, not looking up at him.

“That doesn’t explain what this is,” Talon said.

Damian’s eyes flickered up and down again. “Tt. If you’re going to be this dense about it maybe it was a poor idea. You broke out of the cave last nigh to sleep here. You might as well be comfortable.”

“None of you are what I was expecting,” Talon admitted.

“What does that have to do with blankets? You can obviously break out of the cave so I’m not sure how we’re supposed to keep you prisoner.”

“It’s not about that,” Talon started.

“I was raised by assassins too,” the boy said and Talon opened his mouth, almost ready to protest he had never been __raised__  by them, that his mother and father had been allowed to raise him before the Court claimed him. But he shut his mouth instead.

“I heard Todd—” Talon stopped and frowned, tapping one finger against his knee. “Jason,” he corrected hesitantly. “Mentioned that.”

“You were awake for a while without anyone noticing,” Damian said. “That’s impressive.”

Talon inclined his head to acknowledge that is was and they watched each other again, silently appraising the other.

“You should go to sleep,” Damian said, rolling over abruptly and pulling a blanket up.

At first Talon just remained sitting where he was, even as the light by Damian’s bedside went out. After he counted out an hour of time passing he finally laid down on the mat, though he did not use the blankets.

-0-

“You should eat breakfast with us,” Damian said and Talon hid in the attic instead.

Yet Bruce still found him up there, and Talon still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around calling the Batman Bruce. The fact he was in his house, sleeping at the foot of his son’s bed because it was the only place that calmed the itch under his skin.

“Not taking my advice about the sunlight?” Bruce asked, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Outside?” Talon asked, because the sky surprised him now.

“No,” Bruce said. “Come, follow me.”

With a frown, Talon unfolded himself from the rafters he had wedged himself into and followed Bruce through his house, still wearing the basics of his Talon armor. He fiddled with one of the straps as they walked, considering the line of Bruce’s shoulders as they walked.

“You don’t have to walk behind me, you know,” Bruce said casually as they were descending a staircase.

“Do you not want me at your back?” Talon asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” Bruce said and Talon didn’t move to walk beside him so Bruce gave a small shake of his head.

He paused outside a door, giving Talon a considering look. “This used to be my mother’s favorite room in the house.”

“Then why,” Talon started to ask when Bruce pushed up the door and shuffled him inside the room.

There was sunlight coming from every direction except behind them.

Talon turned to Bruce in confusion. “What—”

“It’s a sun room,” Bruce said. “You don’t have to go outside yet, if you don’t want to.”

“So you just want me to sit in here—”

“Consider it as your own space,” and Talon’s mind came to a screeching halt. “Sit here if you like, there’s a table,” and he pointed to it but Talon kept staring at him instead of looking. “Where you could read or work. There’s a couch. You could sleep here if you liked. Or simply be. But everyone here has their own space, and you should have one too.”

“I don’t belong here.”

“Then where do you belong?” Bruce asked and left him in the room with the sunshine.

Later he must have fallen asleep because he woke up to find Damian sitting across the room at the table, a sketchbook in his hands and a pile of clothing on the other chair by the table.

“What’s that?” Talon asked and Damian flickered his eyes up.

“Clothes, obviously.”

Talon frowned before standing and walking over, picking up the first shirt which was a soft black fabric in a size that looked almost exactly like his would be. “For?”

“You,” Damian said and Talon frowned at him.

“How—”

“Tt, honestly. You’ve been here over twenty-four hours and you think my father would not have ordered clothes for you?”

Talon looked back at the shirt and felt his breath catch in annoying way that had never happened to him that he could remember.

-0-

He had claimed the name of Dick, and so Dick he tried to become again.

He still slept as often at the foot of Damian’s bed as he did in the sun room, and he finally discarded the armor that had been the only thing he’d worn for four years. He learned Tim’s name, the other boy that had been there the night he woke up in the manor.

He also met Batgirl, who blinked rapidly at him the one time she was down in the cave. “Where have you been hiding?” she asked, cocking her head at him.

“The sewers mostly,” he said and she narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to figure out if he was kidding or not.

Jason was the one to get him out of the house first, taking him on a walk of the property on a cloudy day. For most of it Jason didn’t urge him to speak, or fill the silence with words. “You’ve been through some pretty messed up stuff haven’t you?” he finally asked, halfway across the grounds.

“Yes,” Dick said, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Yeah,” Jason said like he understood, but didn’t need to say more. Dick glanced up at him sideways and didn’t press.

Sometime later he realized Tim and Damian were engaged in a competition to expose him to the most new things that would surprise him or make him happy.

“Cell phones were around when I was in the circus,” he insisted as Tim urged him down onto the couch to show him the new phone Bruce had already acquired for him.

“Yeah, but they’ve gotten even cooler,” Tim said and fifteen minutes later Dick had to reluctantly agree.

Another day Damian presented him with a stuffed elephant. Dick could only stare at it in confusion for a long moment. “Why?” he asked finally.

“Because you mentioned the elephant you liked so much at the circus,” Damian said, doing push ups like handing Dick the stuffed animal and then staying in his space was no big deal. “And I hear your nightmares at night.”

“How is this supposed to help?” Dick asked.

Damian shrugged, having stopped his push ups to sit with his legs crossed, watching Dick. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just know people says it helps. Maybe it’s holding something.”

Dick blinked at him, feeling something yearning open up in his chest all at once. His mother and father had hugged him an awful lot as a child, but the only time he’d held anyone since was the night on the rooftop, underneath the light from the Bat Signal. Before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped the elephant and bent down, wrapping his arms tightly around Damian’s shoulders.

All at once Damian tensed but he did not push Dick away. “This is not what I meant,” he said stiffly.

“I know,” Dick said, and squeezed him tighter. Damian made an unhappy sound before he raised one hand and awkwardly pat Dick on the back.

Another day passed and Dick declared to an offended Tim and Damian that Jason had won their competition the instant he plopped a bowl of ice cream into Dick’s hands.

-0-

“You know this can’t last,” Dick said to Bruce, as they stood in the dining room.

“What does?” Bruce asked.

“Do you not understand that it’s dangerous for me to be here? You may have beat the Court in the past, but are you so arrogant to think they will not come after you again?”

“Won’t you help me when they do?” Bruce asked and Dick reared back.

“One person can only do so much.”

“But you know and understand them,” Bruce said. “That always offers an advantage.”

Dick shook his head and Bruce gave him another twitch of his mouth that might have been a smile on anyone else.

“We fight them, like we’ve fought every other threat before. As a family.”

“I am not your family,” Dick said too quickly, even though sometimes now Damian sketched beside him, their sides pressed together, and Jason and he regularly went on walks around the property, and he had started teaching Tim how to properly do a flip.

“What else do you think you’ll be?” Bruce asked and left him there.

-0-

It didn’t last.

Someone wearing Talon armor came crashing through the window one night when the Batman and Red Hood were out on patrol.

Dick had been sprawled out on the couch, Damian fussing across the room with Alfred, who had shown Dick nothing but kindness and a willingness to cook him whatever he might ask for.

Instantly he was rolling off the couch, as a knife embedded itself in the fabric where he had just been.

“You know why I’m here, I think,” the armored form said and Dick barely offered him a smile before launching himself at his waist, knocking him into the wall. He himself was wearing only loose pants and another of the numerous black shirts Bruce had acquired for him.

He vaguely heard Damian shove Alfred out of the room with a demand to call for his father. But he focused on blocking the punches and knives coming toward him.

“Stay back,” he ordered Damian.

“Oh please, you know I can help,” Damian snapped.

“That’s not what this is about,” Dick said, landing a solid kick on the would be Talon’s middle, sending them staggering back. But the next knife thrust cut along his cheek.

“Still a Talon, aren’t you?” the new would be Talon asked. “You know exactly what this is about.”

“It’s laughable you think you could defeat me,” Dick said. After a flurry of blows that sent them spilling out into the hallway he broke his opponent’s arm. “How much training could you even have had?”

“You never succeeded as Talon,” the other said, and Dick didn’t even bother to tear off their mask. He didn’t want to see the face of whoever hoped to kill him to replace him. “You failed the first time you went out.”

“I’d rather have failed to be a Talon than to have succeeded,” Dick said and he realized too late his back was too the stairs as the new Talon kicked him and he unbalanced. He went down with no grace, the Talon swinging himself over the banister and landing nearby.

He thought he might have heard Damian make a sound up above, jumping down the stairs himself as Dick rolled out of the way of the next strike. He’d barely gotten to his feet when Damian appeared, using a piece of the stair railing to break the would be Talon’s leg.

With a broken leg and a broken arm, it took short work to tie him up, even as he spit and cursed at them the whole time.

“Did you know him?” Damian asked, when they were finished.

“No,” Dick said, shaking his head slightly.

It wasn’t that much longer until the Batman and Red Hood came tearing into the mansion, stopping when they found Damian and Dick standing over the bound Talon.

“Well, the two assassins managed not to kill someone, I’m impressed,” Red Hood said and both the Batman and his son gave him an exasperated look before the Batman approached.

“Are you alright?” he asked Dick, who nodded his head.

“You are never going to be free from the Court,” the would be Talon snarled at him. “We will keep coming. The Court will have you one way or another, Gray Son.”

Dick looked at Bruce and then at Damian, who stood with his legs spaced apart and his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the bound Talon. He slowly met the Batman’s eyes through the cowl. “Let them try,” he said, and finally felt like he could taste freedom on the horizon. “I’m not their puppet anymore and I’ll be ready for them.”


End file.
